This is mental torture.

Utter torture.

Today is the day of the Cheshire Cat sportive I was supposed to be riding, over 1600 entrants about 100 of which I know well.

The course is brilliant, some fantastic climbs and descents with stunning scenery.

The weather is perfect. I mean perfect. It's dry, clear blue skies, very light breeze, about 15 degrees centigrade.

Two weeks ago I was the fittest I have ever been in my life.

Now I'm sat stuck at home with my messed up leg raised almost in tears at the thought of what I should be doing.

I know I should put things into perspective, it could be a lot worse but damn, I'm seriously gutted.